Be content
by Christiiine
Summary: Edward is being asked to look after his supposed daughter, Bella. Simplicity? Forget Marcus Aurelius. He never saw her and isn't even certain if they share a blood link. But oh well, there's time to see if he's wrong or right. And that times hurts. AU
1. Chapter 1

Edward is being asked to look after his supposed daughter, Isabella. Simplicity ? Forget Marcus Aurelius. He never saw her and isn't even certain if they share a blood link. But oh well, there's time to see if he's wrong or right.

Rated for later chapters.

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**Be content**

_A noble man compares and estimates himself by an idea which is higher than himself; and a mean man, by one lower than himself. The one produces aspiration; the other ambition, which is the way in which a vulgar man aspires._

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Bella is a very unforeseeable being. I never know what her next move will be or what color she'll chose to buy the day after tomorrow. Once it was that coral shade that proudly sat on one wall, playing as the opposite of the royal blue. It hurt my eyes really, but I said nothing. When she asked if I liked it, I only mumbled that yes Bella, I indeed did.

I guess it's normal. After all she's studying art. Painting to be more exact.

I never understood how Renee allowed her close to such an establishment. While we were pretty young during our first and last meeting – hmm, of course I mean private meeting with clothes flying over our shoulders and a dirty room being rent at a horribly smelling motel – we both still had high plans for our future. Our efforts came to conclusion. After years of studying she could proudly affirm that she was a University teacher. Me, well, I made a career on my own. Ever heard about M.D ? Medical Doctor if we throw away useless comas and dots. As Renee would say, and her high-pitched voice still rings in my ears, drawing colourful lines all over the paper isn't serious.

Well, she loved her daughter. It was understandable.

I remember how she came to me – we are being literate here, she only phoned me – and announced that a remarkable offer had been made and she simply couldn't toss it aside. When I inquired in an annoyed tone, for I never was one to hide my emotions until Bella came, if it was impossible even for her daughter she nearly hung up. Oh, not before insulting me, calling me a mindless idiot. I would have gladly reminded her that she wasn't the only one with a Ph. D but it wasn't the time.

"So I was wondering if you could look after Isabella while I am away." No, you heard right. There was no question mark. It had been a lethargic statement; perhaps if I had gathered my guts I would have called it an order but it just sounded _rude._

I am many things but I'm not a _rude_ person. In fact I despise people who lack intelligence to express themselves in a polite, calm way. We aren't animals – thankfully, even if sometimes some appear to be.

"You know, I might not be her father." I told her once when she called to talk to Bella. The girl was out, running the streets with some tanned young man – for I will not fall to the level of today's teenagers by calling him 'guy'. In many cultures 'guy' was a masculine name. Just think about French people, Paris ! Ah, but I am loosing myself – whose name, if my memory wasn't betraying me, was Jacob. I didn't care about his surname; as long as he was being a gentleman everything was perfectly fine with my persona. "What makes you think I am ?"

Renee didn't even sound surprised as she answered me on such a casual tone it made me stare at my reflection for minutes. I was shaving, you see, and cut myself when she talked. "I never said that I am certain that you are. But you are the only one I remember." Pause. Big, long, excruciating pause. "And the kindest. I am having a lecture in an hour, goodbye Edward."

Yes, it was _la goute d'eau qui a fait déborder le vase_. The last drop, the one that made the glass spill. I don't know how to describe my state at the moment. I guess that the most accurate word would be stupor. And as I carefully observed my reflection I couldn't help but allow doubt to take control over me. Bella's chin wasn't formed like mine, her hair was darker, her eyes bore that peculiar shade of brown which I found absolutely delicious. She bore more of Renee than of me. The only thing that she seemed to have inherited from me – if she was indeed blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh – was her skin. It was opaque. Was it a good description ? I don't have another. And there were dark circles under her eyes – just like me.

That's not flattering, but I am a man and so flattering descriptions are my weak point.

But then again, living in Forks never did anyone good. The weather had always been horrible – it was raining constantly if you are curious, but something tells me you aren't – and the Sun…Ha, ha. I am laughing now. There was simply no sun. What a pitiful attempt at a witticism. If Bella had the ability of reading my thoughts she would have said that I 'sucked'. It is a statement that could be understood in many different ways. For example I could blush or remain impassive. After all wasn't I the one who studied English before heading to psychology, preferring its complexity ?

That reminds me. It was very awkward, how it all started – my life with Bella as a supplement in it. I remember more or less clearly how I drove to the airport to get her. My palms were sweating and I nearly lost control of the car once or twice – who am I lying to ? I almost killed an unfortunate dog that had a sudden urge to go run happily in the woods. Why ? Don't ask me. – before finally stopping. I also vaguely remember practicing my welcome speech.

Ah. Well, welcome Bella. I know Forks isn't a town as big as Phoenix or as sunny but hey – yes, the 'hey' had to be there. Because I was _so_ informed about our teenagers' lifestyles I judged it would make me look less like a geek. God almighty, oh it's only an expression for I am an atheist, let her not hate me. So where were we ? Oh yes, after the infamous 'hey'. So Bella, it is rather nice here. It's calm and there's this art college…

I learned to change my vocabulary and opt for a more common one with time. This was pure _bullshit_ and as soon as I came rushing into the airport I knew I was damned. Renee had sent me a rather blurry photograph of darling Isabella, as she called her, and I remember then staring at my cell phone, trying desperately to find a girl with brown hair and white skin. Yes, it was that difficult. I was a grown man and yet I was about to yell in anger in the middle of what seemed nowhere. Why did I even agree to take part of that game of madness in the first place ? Oh right, because I never refused a woman. Even when prostitutes talked to me – yes, you heard right, there were those in Forks – I politely declined their suspicious offer, always smiling.

"Excuse-me, are you Edward Cullen ?"

Years of being addressed to only as Mr. Cullen made stand in place and say nothing. My mouth was impotent and only opened and closed as I drank in the sight of the girl in front of me. She wasn't the definition of perfection, nor was she as shiny as a diamond like those beautiful blondes from the beach, but there was something in her. She lazily played with her dark chestnut half-curls half-waves and looked at me. At her feet there was an enormous bag and when she made no move to pick it up I understood – clever me – that it was a feat she reserved for me to accomplish. Sad enough I was no white knight. Still, I had to play the role. Mainly because she walked away, leaving a confused me with it.

"Did Renee," Ruler number one, never call a child's mom by her name. It's unprofessional. My old professor's voice never left me, even years after he died. "Have you seen a photograph of me ?" I questioned, trying to sound soothing. The poor dear, she had left everything she knew to reside with some man she never met. "You found me so quickly."

"No." Isabella – because at the time I ignored that she simply loathed her complete name – yawned. My eyes widened. Did Renee teach her manners ? I never had children so I didn't know how they behaved at home. Well, my brother did have a daughter but she always acted like some little cherub when I visited. I was confused and my forehead became sweaty. "She said you had Venetian blond hair." I checked myself in the rear-view mirror. "And well since no one was searching for me I just decided to spot every man with that hair colour. You were the only one."

Many thoughts raced through my mind. It wasn't wise. And what if she had approached the wrong man ? The world was full of perverse creatures who were either hungry for soft skin or blood. Of course, said like this I sounded like some overprotective parent but truth be told I was so very anxious. What if something happened to the girl while she was staying with me ? Renee would not only bite my head off, oh no, the woman would go as far as hire lawyers and drag me by my horrible Venetian blond hair to the court.

"You shouldn't have done that," Was I scolding her ? I felt like giggling. Here I was, a middle-aged bachelor who never had to deal with hormonal teenagers, trying to sound more or less imposing. Would she listen to me ? Would she walk away, yelling her lungs out, affirming that I had no rights on her and that I wasn't her father? Hell was my witness I wished I wasn't. "It is very unwise. Just think about it, Isabella, what if –"

There she cut me mid-sentence like the impolite girl she was. "There's no 'if'," She said, paying more attention to the window than to me, "I hadn't been raped or killed," My forehead was literally dripping sweat and while she couldn't see I quickly brought my sleeve up to wipe it, "So everything's fine. Love your car by the way."

Rule number two. If a kid attempts a conversation it is perhaps sign of respect. Otherwise _it_ – the kid, let's be theoretical – would have simply and dumbly stared at its shoes or hands, ignoring the other human being in the car. My lips opened but nothing came out but a confused sound. I couldn't tell what it was; a common 'hmm' or foolish 'oh', for I was so nervous at the moment and barely recalled anything.

"Mercedes." She stated, the face of an expert, grave and soft at the same time. "But not Benz."

I laughed. That high, hysterical laughter that usually came alive whenever I was in some horrible situation. When I was dating Tanya I giggled like this often, mainly because she insisted to bring me with her at some high-class parties with French champagne and decade old wine. I have to admit that I fitted in nicely for I was an instructed person myself, but the way she dragged me by the arm was unnerving. She treated me like a trophy.

"You know about cars ?" I asked. "Of course this one isn't very luxurious, but, hmm, I mean, it's alright. I like it." What was this madness ?

"How am I to call you ?"

I winced a little at her tone. So casual. "Well," I began, "Since we will be living together," Just this already sounded awfully wrong, "I guess you could call me Edward." What did Renee told her exactly ? That I was an old acquaintance ? A baby-sitter of some sort ? It was hard to believe that calculated, professional Renee would drop such a burden on her daughter's shoulder as the news that I was her father. Was she, the pretty young woman I knew years ago, even married ? Did Bella have a stepfather ?

"Is Renee married ?" I abandoned the idea of calling her 'your mother'. "Where exactly is she going ? If I recall correctly she is to give a lecture at some very good University." Renee taught history. "What is the subject ?"

Isabella rolled her eyes and I noticed how she hadn't stopped her chewing since she first spoke to me. Oh, poor girl she was nervous, I deduced, clever being that I was. It was a common bad habit, really, to chew on the inside of the cheek or lip. Many did. I remember that one of my students – oh, _oh._ It was just chewing gum.

"I don't know. I don't want to be a historian; I'm not interested in that stuff." That statement made it very clear that she didn't wish to speak to me. "Yes, she's married. Yes she is happy. No I am not overjoyed with the idea of being here. Yes I know who you are. You're my father, aren't you ?"

My blood ran cold, for lack of better expression. I'll be plain and say that literature had always been my second thing after psychology. I had been taught to avoid simplicity, no matter what Marcus Aurelius said. But now even my mind, usually ready and willing to form some beautiful _tournure de phrase_, sentence structure, had lost hope to come up with something potent.

I cleared my throat. "Isabella,'' She gave me a murderous look but remained silent otherwise. Good girl. Simple politeness; never offend the adult. "I intend to be honest with you and so I'll stick with simple, clear as water, words; I am not certain. Renee put me before the fact. I don't know, I know nothing."

"Can I have twenty dollars ? I forgot my wallet at home. Phoenix."

At that moment I would have done anything just to ease the atmosphere. Her mood was palpable; I could have reached out and touched it. And even get burned, so violent it was. As the car came to as stop I fumbled with my waistcoat, searching for money. Usually I didn't carry cash on me, preferring the little space that a credit and debit card required, but today was Bella's lucky day. With trembling hands I handed her the green bill with the monotonous visage of Andrew Jackson. She played with it, twisted it in her pale hands, lifted it so the little of light that was present passed through it.

"Thanks." She said and for the first time I saw her smile. It wasn't genuine, just a small curling of lips. When she was happy her expression became cheesy . Or maybe she wasn't content. Maybe she was just lying. That thought I pushed aside for it was already difficult to even breathe. "I can assure you that you're better than Phil."

"What do you mean ?" Then it occurred to me that as soon as we would arrive at my house I would have to show her around. I couldn't bear to be close the girl. Her presence was suffocating, I was just too nervous and needed time to calm down and analyze the situation with a clear, professional mind. Yes, I would remain the clinical psychologist while she was here. Four months Edward, you can do it, I tried to cheer myself up vainly.

"Phil never gives me money." She pouted. I threw a quick glance at her and found myself hating the way her face contortioned in a girly grimace. "He says that a teenager is supposed to work and tells me to go find a job at McDonalds or stuff." Now that I think about it, that Phil's idea wasn't that bad. Pretty good even. "And Renee supports him, though she does lend me a dollar or two sometimes."

I won't even question why she calls her mother by her given-name, I shouted inside my head. This, everything, was already too strange and in no way comforting. Just concentrate on the road Edward, the road dammit.

"Oh." Was all that I found to say. Apparently my diploma in English was lost. Strange, I always thought myself a good student. ''Well, I mean, if you forgot your wallet I guess it's just right that I give you money. You are a teenager and teenagers need to get out and buy different things." Bella was eighteen in case you're wondering.

Some weeks later I discovered that her wallet was proudly sitting in the inside – the secret – pocket of her jacket with its content intact. I didn't scowl her for I still believed I hadn't any right to do so. There's another thing about Bella that you should perhaps be aware of. Her annoying tendency to repeat the same phrase over and over again until I feel like hanging myself. She shares it with Renee. I found out about it later that evening.

"Renee," I was arguing over the phone, half-whispering half-murmuring, trying to sound professional and calm. It wasn't working. "It's alright, I'll pay. Don't bother yourself with such simplistic matters." The girl might not be mine but I was a gentleman above everything and taking money from a woman seemed improper.

"Oh, just shut up, Edward." Renee had always been very franc and direct. "Be content and shut up." Here, you see, it was starting. "Be content for God's sake. If you forgot my husband and I have good jobs." At that I rolled my eyes like Bella would have. Yes, exactly for that reason they had sent a hormonal teenager to spend her autumn with me.

Where was that Phil hero by the way ? It unnerved me that me, a person completely out of nowhere, had been assigned this task when Bella had a legal stepfather whom she knew since childhood. I was new in her life and little did I know maybe she hated me.

"Who was that ?" Isabella asked, coming out of the kitchen, a Coke in her hand. Ah. I couldn't help but smirk. After all Jasper's advices weren't so useless. He once told me that all young people from five to twenty loved this brown, stomach-killer. Thank you brother for not fooling around for once.

"Your mother." I mumbled. "She is sending money for you which is really unnecessary for I could easily provide for both of us. But Renee had always had a high ego and-"

"Just be content." She snapped and walked away.

I am not exaggerating. It really irritated me. You have to understand me; I never properly saying lived with a woman. Tanya had been, let's not be rude, a mere companion. I won't say that she warmed my life and household because I didn't have one – such terms includes a wife with curly hair and chubby kids running around, yelling – and mainly because my stove accomplished its job rather well. In my mind women, the general word had always been sweet creatures who welcomed you with a slightly wet kiss and a soft smile before offering you the remote for the television.

I am not misogyny. I just watched stupid soap operas with my sisters a little bit too much whenever I was visiting them. And it happened often.

Later that day I found myself staring at Bella and thinking that she was quite lovely. I loved the way she brought her hands up to look at her silly manicure. It wasn't something fancy like Tanya liked it, but rather pink and yellow nails. I chuckled softly and she shot me a murderous glance. Yes, that shut me up for good. Her waist was very small and fine like glass; if I could just approach her a little perhaps my fingers could have wandered on her covered skin. It wasn't some pervert need, I was merely curious.

And then I realized how awful it was of me and that the girl sitting on my divan was maybe my daughter. I broke into a cold sweat, bid Bella goodnight and retired not before cursing under my breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

GSA

Genetic Sexual Attraction.

Sexual attraction between close relatives.

Now, I was simply seeking an easy escape route. Here I was, trying to justify myself staring at Bella that evening which seemed a lifetime ago. Since then, we had created our own little routine – which was disturbed every so rarely.

And still I could not get rid of the mental image which haunted me at night. Me, a middle-age man, a medical doctor, someone with a double degree, a respectable person in the little community of Forks, and someone who had been offered to teach at a well-viewed university in New York. That very person described, me, had stared at his daughter in a less than parental way.

Was Renee ever calling me back with the good news that she wished for her daughter to return ?

It didn't seem like so.

"Edward !"

She didn't ease into the habit of calling me 'dad' or even the more formal 'father'. Bella preferred staying on neutral grounds by using my name. It didn't exactly help me in my quest for redemption.

Oh sweet, not all that innocent, Isabella. Why were you wearing but a towel ?

"Yes, my dear," I answered calmly.

Desperately, I pushed my glasses higher on my nose. The poor device had begun to slide down with all the perspiration going on on my forehead, and slowly making its way down.

It was an unnaturally hot day in this quiet, little town of mine, and probably the reason behind Bella's third shower of the day.

"I am going to get into that art College, right ?"

She had pushed a chair next to mine and now was sitting in it, absentmindedly playing with her wet hair and staring at me through it. I swallowed, attempted to nod, but merely remained frozen in place just like before. She wasn't an exact replica of Renee, but still a pleasant enough reflection. Her features were a tad more delicate, more child-like than exquisitely feminine. It was oddly appealing.

"Of course, Bella," I murmured.

She bit her lower lip. "And what if I don't ?"

"You shall."

A singular smile crept to her lips, one that failed to reach her eyes, and instantly her small feet connected with my knee. I blinked, shook my head, frowned a little bit but she refused to utter a word. It was only when her head lolled onto her shoulder, that she spoke.

"But what if I don't, Edward ?" The whine in her tone made me cringe.

I did not know what was the protocol to follow with a lamenting young girl.

"Then I'll take you to New York and you will go to one of the best schools there is."

Now this was an act of desperation.

Her body was soft, colder than mine, still a little moist, upon the hug. I had not anticipated it, and the action came as a surprise. It only served to knock the breath out of my lungs, to kick me to the edge of self control.

Granted, once the word _daughter_ popped into my mind, I was hugging her back without reserve- all want had vanished.

That night I was calling Renee with a brandy in my hand. Bella was a lovely, if not sometimes brash, girl but I could not have her under my roof any longer. For one, there had been the kitchen incident which had gone a little bit like this :

First character: your humble servant. Edward Cullen, M.D, still half asleep, in the middle of the kitchen, reaching for a glass of cold water.

Second character as well as main antagonist: Isabella Swan, impulsive art student, sitting on the ground with her back to the refrigerator for no apparent reason.

Upon trying to get a bottle of water, Edward Cullen did not notice the latter and tripped, falling on the floor next to her. The culprit ? Her long, bare legs. What did Isabella Swan then proceeded to do ? To laugh of course, and throw her arms around a shivering Dr. Cullen while burying her face in his chest. Her breath had been soft, warm, and then painfully burning against his skin.

End of scene.

"Renee !" I hissed into the receiver.

"Edward," she replied casually, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"I..." my tongue moved around in my mouth for a short while, trying to find words worth whispering in that special determined tone I reserved only for serious talks. "I believe it's time you take Isabella back."

A silence on the other side. "But why ?"

To this, I did not know what to reply.

Back to the incidents.

Uncomfortable episode number two. Jasper Evans was a fellow colleague and the only immunologist the hospital of Forks possessed. Thus, he was highly valued by all board staff. There were rumours of him having been offered a job at the prestigious Mayo Clinic. Why he hadn't taken it was a mystery for all of us – but then again, it was but a rumour, a foolish saying.

Oh, and he also happened to be a friend.

It was with him that I had been on that day, that dreadful September 9th. For lack of anything better to do, Bella had decided to visit me at the hospital. The halls where blood could be smelled, she had avoided like the plague. And so it had taken her a little while to find me. At last, she had come through the doors of the cafeteria, looking like a strange sort of angel in her white and knee-length dress, and perched herself on a chair next to mine. Jasper had laughed, I had smiled, she had remained silent for a little while.

But then she had finally spoken. "I'm his daughter, you know."

Jasper had politely acquiesced, casting me a side-way glance.

"He did talk of you."

But then, the rather agreeable conversation, had taken a bad tour. Bella's eyes, suddenly two brown magnets, had settled upon an intern at the other side of the cafeteria. He was tall man, an elegant and handsome one, who had caught her stare and sustained it.

"Be wary," Jasper had advised her. "Jacob Moore is known for nightstands and nothing more."

It was during moments like those that I wished to die. What had I been supposed to do ? Chastise her ? Tell Bella to leave at once, head home, and not leave her room until the good, forgiving word of Edward Cullen had been granted to her?

I had done none of those things, and remained as droll, as wooden, as inanimate as the table in front of me.

Bella had merely exclaimed, "His name is Jacob _too_ !"

Well, that made two Jacobs in her life already.

And as she had left my careless side, I could but think that this Jacob Moore was a lucky man to score such a jewel for a few hours.

"She believes you are her father," Renee was telling me, her tone accusing. "Do you really want to destroy her young psyche ?"

"I don't understand," I admitted lamely.

Would you look at that. The brandy had magically disappeared, the only reminder that my glass had once been full being the burning in the back of my throat. I helped myself to another portion.

"Listen Renee," I whispered as I leaned against the wall, "you have to understand that this is very difficult for me as well."

"I see. So you dislike her."

My mouth went dry. "On the contrary, I adore her."

And this was a mistake.

I could practically feel her beam, grin, and perform a dance of joy, on the other side.

"Look Edward. I respect you and Bella likes you. I spent my life believing you were her father and taught it to my daughter as well. Of course, if you truly object to having her in your life then I shall board the next plane to Washington and come to take her off your hands. But if you're a decent man, you will seize this opportunity and try to bond with you daughter. I am sorry Edward, but this is not about you. Isabella needs a fatherly influence – no, not even an influence. She needs a father. Why give her a mere figure, like my dear Phil, when she has the real thing ? Be a good man."

Occurrence number three. After I hung up, baffled, and apologized to Renee, Bella, came by and gave me a wet towel.

It was mine.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I ran out of mine. I hope you don't mind I borrowed one of yours."

"Of course not," I stuttered.

For an hour, I tried to ignore it. But each time I made a trip to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face to aid with the heat, I could smell it. Bella used a lavender soap, a lavender shampoo – well, everything she owned in her bathroom was lavender-scented.

Two hours before leaving for work, I found myself washing that towel.


End file.
